This Is Goodbye
by dreamfighter920
Summary: Another world war breaks out and Scott is drafted back into USAF and after four uncertain years of silence his brothers are starting to lose hope. John, feeling lost, commits his feelings to paper and writes a letter to Scott that he may never receive. A year later, his need for knowing is somewhat answered, but the news is not exactly good.
1. Chapter 1

**This Is Goodbye – Prompt #4**

 **Prompt: Put your iTunes library on shuffle and write a song based on whatever comes up first:** _ **This Ain't A Love Song by Scouting For Girls**_

 **In the outbreak of the next world war, Scott gets called back to the air force and his brothers beg him to burn his draft paper and not go back, but Scott is forced to leave and for his brothers to suffer without him. John in particular, is lost without his big brother and fears the day that he is made the oldest brother. During a teared frenzy alone on Thunderbird 5 he writes a letter to Scott that he may never get a chance to send.**

Dearest Older Brother,

When I sleep I still think of when father called me back to Earth to hear you tell me that you were leaving. I know you wanted to make it personal, I but I wish I had never been there, I wish I had been alone with an easy excuse to leave the congregation; and I'm firstly sorry for wanting that, but it is unfortunately true.

I think it was the first time I've ever seen you cry, not even when mom died. Do not think that I believe that you're not strong for this, you had every right to cry, we all did. I also think that's when we knew that this war was bad, they were pulling you back to fight their stupid wars that even they don't understand, even now after 4 years of fighting and we haven't seen you since. We tried to get Colonel Casey to fight for your position after you left, but you know how it is, the drafting has been rigged for a century and everyone knows it, even if the government do pretend that they have no exceptions.

We blame the drafters, we really do, Scott. Especially Alan, he doesn't like having to get to know Thunderbird 1 without you there to teach him. He does spend a painfully long time looking her over for scratches; he probably believes that if he does scratch her you'll magically turn up in a puff of smoke in front of him to kill him yourself.

Gordon isn't doing great either, he swims so many lengths these days even Grandma can't find a way to get the smell of chlorine out of him. He says he just wants to be fitter in case WASP draft him too, but we all know that isn't, we all know it's for you. If anything we need you back so that he'll stop stinking the place up, I can smell it on 5 now, seriously it somehow travelled here with me and I hate it.

Virgil is doing worse than everyone, when I'm not down there he's the acting older brother and I know he doesn't just feel ready for that yet. Even on the rare days when I do see him, the piano remains untouched, it's like he's vanished. I don't think the paint in his palette has even been stirred these past few weeks at least. Every so often I hear that he'll emerge from his room like a bear does from a cage, and asks if anyone has heard anything from you. It's almost like he believes that you're already dead.

Father keeps edging his way back to the scotch, and we push the bottle further away from him but he follows it as if we were stringing it along in front of his space, the way one does with a carrot and a stubborn old donkey. I remember you made me help you pour away every drink in the house after mum died, I don't think we'll ever see dad's face look quite like that again.

We need you back Scotty, we need you to show your face around here again. Please, just drop us a line, a word, anything. None of us can take the endless silence anymore, none of us are coping. I walked into Alan's room last night, he was printing out an air force enlistment form, he's desperate for you Scott and I don't want to lose either of you.

I don't even know if you're alive anymore, all we're doing now is waiting for the tick-box form that says that you're missing instead of you.

Scott, if you're out there, please don't make me sign this with goodbye.

Your little brother,

John.

 **I'm so sorry for writing this oh my god**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm sorry I left this for like 7 months I hadn't even thought of writing more of this but I got inspired by artisticrainey to write another chapter for her brawl challenge (which you should check out on Tumblr) but here is a new and completely spontaneous chapter for all your sad military Scott needs.**

"He's missing, now we know for sure." Virgil said, having gathered his family in the lounge to read out the card. The letter was cold and unfeeling, it was one of thousands upon thousands of notes and condolences sent out to families that it no longer had any meaning at all. It was just words, nothing helpful or apologetic, just reams of letters.

"Come on, Virge, you know that's just military speak for 'he's dead but we don't want to tell you.'" Gordon jeered, having become the most pessimistic of the brothers in recent months, and had lost all hope in the situation. The boy had once been the personification of sunshine, but now there was emptiness inside him. He had become completely unforgiving to everyone and everything in the world except the fish in the sea, and even then he had a worrying distain for happiness.

"That's not true, Gordon! You know it isn't! He's just lost or crashed or captured somewhere, he's fine!" Alan cried from behind his sibling, the words being spat from his mouth with a little fiery hatred, and had drifted away from his previously closest brother, until they had started to hate each other.

Their grandmother clutched their father's hand tightly, fearing his loss should she let go of him. Nowhere was safe from conflict, their island home was meant to be a haven away from the fighting, but watching her grandsons fight each other, even without arms, hurt more than any bomb could. Scott was the centre of the family, he was everybody's confident, everyone's model and support, and the glue that had kept the family when his mother had died, he was the north point of the Tracy compass. Ruth Tracy was a strong woman, perhaps the strongest any of the boys had known, but had never once believed that tears were a sign of weakness. Tears were an admittance to feeling pain, and being human wasn't something that anyone could be blamed for, and she refused to let her son or grandsons be taught that they were to be ashamed for crying; which was just as well, looking over at her solitary astronaut grandson stood in the shadowy corner away from the crowd, with silent tears glistening as they rolled down his face.

She wondered over silently to him as the boys began to bicker, ignoring their aggressive words as they directed poisoned lashes of yells towards their father, still believing that he, with all his money and power hadn't done enough to stop their brother from being taken away from them. Ruth put a reassuring hand on the shoulder of her little star but he shrugged her away, wandering back to his room to find an escape in a book or a mug of tea, which was less than what some of his brothers had done, taking their solace from what was often the bottom of a bottle.

The screaming voices blended and grew in volume, trying to be louder than the others to no avail, and yelled as Jeff abandoned the room once more, walking back to the solitude of his office, slumped into despair. He wasn't ignoring his sons, per say, he loved them very much still, but grew tired in their taunts, and it showed in his old and weary face that these new demons who were supposed to be his rock were tearing him to pieces painfully slowly.

The rough sea of people in the lounge dispersed, with the endearing letter clutched in Virgil's almost violently strong hands. In the five years of silent war it felt as if all they had done, with International Rescue interrupted by the UN, was prepare themselves for this moment. Alan had tried to sign up, but as the son of celebrity the fact that he was lying about his age was no secret. Gordon was nearly drowning himself each day and Virgil had become a grey person, with none of his colour, music, or passion playing a part in him anymore, he had become soulless.

Virgil slammed the door to his room and kicked the chest of drawers that opposed him on the other side of the room. He grunted a little and ignored the pain, but slammed his fists into the wall and wardrobe and desk, everything that he came into contact with. He felt unyielding rage, the previous uncertainty had made him anxious, yes, but this was true hopelessness. He didn't cry, he could only violently scream out his anger at the world for doing this to him whilst he had to watch the rest of his family fade away. He remembered the time that he had been a strict pacifist, as most artists were, but wreaked havoc on his emotions as he punched the keys of his laptop's keyboard, and ripped the papers from his printer and slammed them down onto his desk, and began to do what he had promised himself and his family he would never do: sign up for war.

He flinched angrily when he heard a knock at his door, and exhaled what might have been fire.

"Go. Away. Dad." He snarled, almost throwing a glass when the door opened regardless.

"Hey, little brother," John said, managing a weak smile, and the red skin of his face made it evident to Virgil that he had been crying.

"Sorry, John," he said, trying to ignore his own tears, standing up to look at his brother properly, slightly returning to humanity.

"What are you doing? Are you okay? I heard banging." John asked shyly, closing the door behind him and edged his way towards Virgil, leaving plenty of space between them; as if he were a lion tamer and Virgil was the beast.

"I just miss Scott, that's all, I'm not doing anything." He lied, trying to gently brush away his enlistment papers and hide them under his laptop, but that wasn't enough to fool the sharp attentions of the older Tracy.

"What's that?" John asked, pointing to the paper's covered by Virgil's hand. He expected Virgil to show him the paper if he truly had nothing to hide, as he knew that Virgil was not at all a secretive person.

"Nothing, just some old school things I was looking at." He said, lying again, and pushing the papers away, hoping to deter John.

"Virgil, for someone with gold distinction in LAMDA, you're a terrible liar." John said, gently pushing past Virgil to see the papers as his brother shrugged in defeat, moving aside.

"Virgil..." John said quietly, his tone displaying both urgency and disbelief, "what is this?"

"What the hell does it look like?" Virgil snapped, not turning back to look at his brother, and sighed as he regretted his action.

"Please don't go out there, Virge, we might have already lost Scott, don't make us worry about you too, not that we're not already worried about you, just... you know what I mean." He sighed, gripping the form and taking it off the table, hoping that Virgil would leave it.

"I want to go out there so that I can find him, I know it probably won't work, but we've got to try something, haven't we?" Virgil asked, leaning against his desk and staring up at the ceiling, trying to keep back the tears in his eyes.

"We already are, Virgil, we're looking for him all the time, you know that, and you disappearing too won't help!" John exclaimed, raising his voice and making Virgil jump. In all his memory John hadn't raised his voice at him or anyone else even once, and it shocked him, it didn't feel right at all; and Virgil immediately realised, he had _really screwed up._

Virgil immediately burst into tears, pressing his hot face into the shoulder of John's conspicuously vile shirt and letting go of the wet rage that he felt for the world. John said nothing, only running a calming hand through his brother's hair, knowing it was he who made him snap.

"I'm sorry," he whispered continuously, letting go of his own tears.

The two of them cried together, when it was over they could not be called boys by anyone anymore, and their faces shared the same burnt water, mourning for their living brother.

 **I'm sorry if you're having feels right now but if you want me to continue please let me know.**


End file.
